Force Wielder
by Queen Edmund Pevensie
Summary: The holes in Anakin's memories are keeping him awake at night. He won't stop prodding at them. Tag to Mortis arc


**A/N: This is my second star wars fic and first one published for tcw so...I don't know how the force works and i'm counting on that ignorance to help me out here.**

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Anakin is trying to sleep. He really is trying to sleep. Except, every time he closes his eyes, the deep lines of the Father's face swim before his eyes, and his words ring out in the space between Anakin's ears. That's another wizened old guy who knows a lot about the Force –but not a lot about Anakin –reciting old prophecies without any specific information. A lot of good it's done him so far. _The Chosen One._ Anakin scoffs and rolls over in bed. Every moment on Mortis feels hazy and distant –like an old dream. But he can still feel Ahsoka's life draining out of her and the way the Force thrummed loudly inside of him. The Father, the Son, the Daughter. All dead, and one way or another, they all died because of him.

Anakin shifts again. He sighs tiredly. He hasn't slept since they got off Mortis and it's been a few days. They were going to head back to Coruscant to report to the Council, but instead, they got called away, so Anakin hasn't been on land, besides Mortis, which he doesn't count, in two-and-a-half weeks, and he hasn't had a decent rest since then either. He hasn't slept since at all since they left Mortis and were rerouted on another pointless mission. Anakin's _supposed_ to be bringing balance to the Force, but the only time the Council cares about it, _about him_ , is if he's messing up somehow.

He groans and sits up in his bunk, whacking his head on the bedframe above him. It's Obi-Wan's. He's been sleeping about as well as Anakin, but at least now he's sleeping soundly enough that he doesn't stir when Anakin lets out a colorful string of swear words.

Grumbling, Anakin ducks his head as he gets out of his bunk. He grabs his lightsaber and leaves his quarters. He doesn't know where he's planning to go since he's still on the Jedi cruiser in the middle of hyperspace and he's barefoot, but he's so restless that he can't imagine trying to lay down one second longer. If he does, he imagines he'll redecorate the inside of his quarters with his lightsaber, which would put Obi-Wan into an even weirder mood.

He wanders down the hall. The cool metal floor of the ship feels good under his feet. He tries his best not to think about Mortis, but worse than Ahsoka dying or the way the Force felt flowing through him, or any of the other horrific things that he can remember happening on Mortis, it's what he can't remember that's bothering him. There's a gaping hole in his memory and he can't leave it alone. He keeps poking at it and every time he does a little more comes back to him. Not enough that he can be sure of what he did or what he said, but enough to know that he fell to the Dark Side, and that the Son showed him something that made him think it would be worth it. But he knew that much from Obi-Wan's report. Obi-Wan refused to –or couldn't –say more. But the flashes are worse than whatever the truth is.

Obi-Wan has been acting weird around Anakin since they got off Mortis like he thinks Anakin might break into a million pieces if he handles him wrong. It's like the way Obi-Wan was acting after he found out Anakin's mother died. It's driving Anakin crazy that Obi-Wan won't talk to him, but he thinks he could tolerate it if it was _just_ Obi-Wan treating him like a time-bomb. But he's infected the entire crew with it too. Even Ahsoka and Rex act like they can't be too careful around him. Ahsoka won't spar with him the way he needs her to, and Anakin doesn't know if it's because she's being delicate with him or if it's because she's afraid of him, and honestly, he doesn't know which is worse. Obi-Wan can't seem to talk to him without sounding like a longsuffering parent to a troubled kid. More troubled than Anakin. Rex seems to think that everything Anakin says is an indication that he's gone off the deep end. He's dreading going back to Coruscant where he can hear what the rest of the Council has to say about their little escapade on Mortis. They'll probably handle him with kid gloves too, and they'll probably be a lot less understanding than Obi-Wan. They'll probably _demand_ to know what happened, how he could have let those _creatures_ die, how he could have even dared to fall to the dark side. They'll probably expel him from the Order for being too weak to resist the dark side.

Well, at least one good thing would come out of this.

Anakin sighs heavily, trying to clear his spinning head. He's driving himself crazy thinking like this. His eyes itch from exhaustion but every time he lays down he thinks about Mortis and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's yellow eyes, and he gets so wound up again that he feels like ripping his hair out. Suddenly and overwhelmingly frustrated, Anakin drives his metal fist into the nearest wall to relieve a little of the tension building up behind his eyes, and he manages to put a significant dent in the side of the ship. It sends spasms up his arm and down his spine but the sound, the dent, the force with which he hit the wall was all pretty satisfying, and looking at it, the place where the metal bent around his hand, he wonders what would happen if he tried the same thing with his flesh hand. He raises his left fist and with twice the amount of force as before he lets his hand fly into the wall right next to his dent.

His hand hits the wall with a sharp "thwack," and instantly he pulls his hand back. He tries to bend his fingers, but each movement causes a sharp pain to shoot up his arm. He looks at the wall, and there's still only the one dent, but Anakin feels a little better than before so he thinks he might try something different and reaches for his lightsaber with his right, non-injured hand. He ignites it but before he can cause any major destruction he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He turns it off and puts it back, but he kicks the wall instead, forgetting that he's barefoot, and the same pain in his hand is now shooting through his foot.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan sighs behind him. "Are you all right?"

Perfect. Just what he needed. A lecture from the only person who could make him feel worse about the whole business.

Anakin whips around, doing his best to ignore the stabbing pain in his extremities, to face Obi-Wan. He looks tired and drawn and concerned about Anakin or at least about the damage that Anakin is managing to do the Jedi Cruiser.

"What?" Anakin spits, still trying to move the fingers on his left hand with little success.

"Are you all right?" he asks again very patiently.

What Anakin means to say is "I'm fine," in a way that would tell Obi-Wan that he certainly is not fine, but that he is _handling it_ and he _will be fine_ , and if Obi-Wan doesn't leave it alone it's going to get a whole lot worse, which is a lie, and they both know it, but usually, Obi-Wan gives Anakin enough space to self-destruct and collect himself.

What Anakin thinks is "What happened to me?"

What he says, out loud, to Obi-Wan, in the complete silence of the night is, "Ahsoka died," and he doesn't mean for his voice to crack when he says it, but he can't help it because saying it out loud brings back memories of her cold and broken body, and how she was saved by the selfless act of a kind of being Anakin couldn't comprehend but felt instantly akin with. How Ahsoka reviled him, how he knew how easily he could have killed her, how in the end she was another person Anakin couldn't save.

Obi-Wan has closed the space between them without Anakin realizing, and he's right in Anakin's face before Anakin is sure of the words that have come out of his mouth. He can't find it in him to take a step back or push Obi-Wan away when he grabs Anakin's left hand and examines it closely without a word. Anakin can't find it in him to feel affronted by the physical closeness of his Master, or the gentleness of Obi-Wan's touch on Anakin's tender hand.

"Yes," Obi-Wan says carefully, still examining Anakin's hand. "It is upsetting. But she's all right now. A little shaken up by the whole experience, but she's all right." Obi-Wan lets go of Anakin's hand and lets it drop back to Anakin's side. "I trust you didn't break your foot as well."

Anakin sighs. "I'm fine." He's surprised and relieved that Obi-Wan isn't lecturing him about attachment, about letting go of the past. If Anakin hears one word about letting go before they get back to Coruscant he's going to flip. Obi-Wan knows better, of course, to think it would do any good, and that Anakin, up and about in the middle of the third sleep cycle in a row, would react in a way that would almost certainly cause even more damage to the ship. Anakin is grateful for the effort, at least.

"What happened on Mortis…"Obi-Wan starts as carefully as before. "It is difficult."

"I couldn't save her," Anakin says in spite of himself. He doesn't want to say a thing about any of this. He wants Obi-Wan to leave him alone. Just this small piece of conversation has worn him out, and he thinks he _may_ be able to sleep now. He may be able to sleep for a hundred years. "But…you're right. She's okay." He tries to ignore the pricking at the corner of his eyes. "I'm…I'll be fine."

"Hm," Obi-Wan sighs disapprovingly, like he knows Anakin is lying to him.

"What?" Anakin snaps.

"That's all that's bothering you? Nothing else?"

"Nope, that's it," Anakin lies. Obi-Wan fixes him with a sharp glance. Anakin sinks to the floor in response. "I just…it would be easier if I knew what happened to _me_. Why I…" Anakin tries to fight the wave of revulsion that washes over him at the thought, and the foggiest, vaguest memory of himself enshrouded in the dark side. The power, the emptiness. The feeling that it was the only way, and the feeling he could do anything at all. Something terrible. Something worse than letting the Son loose in the Galaxy. Something worth losing himself for. The thought of it makes him want to throw up. "Why I fell," he finishes finally, his voice low, staring at his bare, bruised feet.

Obi-Wan sits next to Anakin, and Anakin can feel him contemplating what to say, feel him weighing his options, his anxiety, his grief. He decides. "I'm not…hiding anything from you, Anakin," he says at last. "I _don't_ know. I wish I could help you." Anakin says nothing, focusing on the pain in his hand to keep him from bursting into tears and to keep him awake. He feels a lot less wired with Obi-Wan so close, so present, so suddenly earnest about helping him. He feels how exhausted he is, in body, in mind. "Perhaps…"Obi-Wan suggests slowly. "We should meditate." He pauses. "But Anakin," he says warningly. "The Father took your memories for a reason. Maybe whatever he showed you should remain…unknown."

Anakin doesn't say anything, but he nods slightly, and closes his eyes and tries to reach out into the Force. It's there, humming slightly, like it has been everyday of his life, but recently, since he's come back from Mortis, there's nothing clear there. No amount of thought or reflection is making it clearer. Usually just a second to listen brings him in tune with the Force –with the truth. No need to spend hours meditating like the rest of the Jedi. The Force usually wants him to know whatever it has to say. But not now. Now, it's clouded. Dark. Unfocused. Anakin opens his eyes, frustrated, to see Obi-Wan, his eyes closed, his lips pursed serenely.

Obi-Wan's lips twitch slightly. "You have to breathe, Anakin," Obi-Wan reminds him gently. "I swear, you don't learn." Obi-Wan stretches his hands out to Anakin's injured ones. "Two minds are better than one, eh?" he offers. Anakin takes them awkwardly, his flesh hand still throbbing. "I'll be gentle," Obi-Wan promises.

So they sit like that, master and student, hands clasped, reaching into the Force. Suddenly, Anakin is able to breathe, breathe with Obi-Wan, with the Force. He can think, he can let go. The pressure in his hand dissipates as he breathes, and suddenly there is no Obi-Wan, no Jedi cruiser, no Anakin. There is just the Force, endless. Anakin and Obi-Wan and the Force breathe together.

Suddenly, Anakin is back on Mortis, at the Well of the Dark Side. He can feel the power of the Force surging around him. Obi-Wan, suddenly beside him, recoils from the touch of the Dark Side, the power of it, and how it twists insistently into his blood. Obi-Wan's stomach churns with it. Anakin's blood boils. He sees the Son –the enemy. He's powerful enough here to defeat the Son, but a small voice in his head reminds him not to act on the Dark Side. It corrupts. It's wrong. It sounds like Obi-Wan's voice, but Obi-Wan is too busy retching to speak. And besides, another voice intones, a voice that sounds like Ahsoka's, the Son is more powerful here too. A voice that sounds like the whole Jedi Council tells him he could defeat the Son, but he lacks focus. The admonishment feels like a whack with Yoda's gimer stick against his shins.

Obi-Wan stops retching long enough to remind him in his real, far-away voice to focus on why they are here. Let everything else fall away. _We seek the truth, young one, nothing more._

Anakin steadies himself, staring at the cold eyes of the son. The pleasantries, the pleading –it means nothing to Anakin, but then, the Son whispers seductively. He's giving Anakin a gift. _A gift._ The Dark Side surges, and Anakin almost reaches out with the Force to kill the son, but –no –Obi-Wan is here. Obi-Wan is watching him. The pressure on his left hand increases slightly, just enough to send a twinge of pain through the meditation.

A gift. The future. Padmé screams. Obi-Wan cries out. Real Obi-Wan or Future Obi-Wan? Anakin isn't sure. He searches for Obi-Wan's hand to squeeze, to ground him in the vision, but he can't find it. A gift, the Son says, and for all it is tearing at his insides as he swallows it, it certainly feels like a gift as he accepts the power. The only way. He pretends to mourn for the world he saw. But he doesn't, not really. He's never been this powerful before in his life. For the first time, he feels right. He feels whole, in control.

" _Ow."_

Anakin's eyes snap open, his hand throbbing painfully. Obi-Wan is watching him carefully, sweating slightly, and gripping Anakin's hand a lot harder than he should. Anakin snatches his hand back from Obi-Wan irritably.

"Welcome back," Obi-Wan says drily, resting his own hands on his knees.

"That hurt," Anakin complains juvenilely, wringing his injured hand. "You didn't need to…"

"I didn't want to," Obi-Wan insists. "You lost focus. You let the Son get in your head. You let the Dark Side infect your thoughts." He stops abruptly and looks Anakin up and down carefully. "The Dark Side…invigorates you." It's not a question or an accusation, but it feels like both to Anakin.

Anakin ducks his head. "It's a lot," he mutters. "I can't help it."

There's silence for a moment as Obi-Wan contemplates what Anakin has said. And then he says the last thing Anakin was expecting. "I'm sorry," Obi-Wan says earnestly. "I was there, at the Well, but I wasn't expecting it to be so overwhelming. I wasn't expecting to feel it as you felt it. I forget, sometimes…" Obi-Wan's voice trails off, and he clears his throat. Anakin isn't eager to hear the end of that sentence. It probably has something to do with the Prophecy, and he's heard about enough of that, at least until they get back to Coruscant. "Well," says Obi-Wan. "I'll be prepared this time." He reaches for Anakin's hand again, and even though Anakin doesn't hesitate, Obi-Wan handles it gingerly, resting it gently on his knee. "Stay focused," Obi-Wan reminds him. "I'd hate for you to lose both hands."

Anakin grumbles half-heartedly, and he closes his eyes. In a matter of seconds he's there, again, with the Son, and there's no beating around the bush. Obi-Wan is there, not far away, grasping his hand tight enough that Anakin can't help but be aware of it. It's grounding him. Forcing him to stay focused. A reminder that this is dangerous –just meditation, but dangerous all the same. Anakin's too easily bought, too easily caught up with what the Son shows him, and Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan's not used to the Force, singing, screaming, in his ear.

Padmé screams. Obi-Wan –Future Obi-Wan cries out. The Jedi cut down the Chancellor. Anakin cuts down Jedi. _Why?_ The Dark Side whispers an answer. How the Jedi revel in this bloodshed! How exhilarating Anakin himself finds the battle! How Obi-Wan laughs in the face of the enemy! _The Sith!_ The Sith are not the enemy! The enemy is in _The Republic_ , infiltrating the Senate, but it is the Jedi! Their commitment to their Order above freedom, above security!

But to cut down younglings? To destroy whole towns and worlds and races? The Dark Side whispers. If that's what peace takes. Peace! What peace? Anakin was born from the chaos of the Force. He has never known peace. If this is what _order_ takes! The Force hums at that suggestion. It feels right. Padmé and Obi-Wan stand in his way. The Jedi stand in his way. And nothing stands in Anakin Skywalker's way.

And then –a dullness comes over him. A darkness. He hadn't even realized it had been so bright, a moment ago, so bright and sharp. But now it's gone. There's nothing now but the dull ache of his limbs and the phantom burning. Each breath drags itself through his lungs, and it rattles around in his head. Drowning out the Force. His arms are heavy, his feet are heavy. He has never felt so heavy in his life. The Force doesn't respond to his call at the ready anymore. And all the while –a vague sense of burning all over his skin. Of heat, of shock, of his skin charring, his flesh charring. Flames consume his heavy, immobile body. Obi-Wan, Future Obi-Wan perhaps but maybe Real Obi-Wan, stares at him from above, disappointed, heart-broken. Anakin thinks it's strange –he wasn't aware Obi-Wan had a heart. Then, Obi-Wan's back. Leaving him there to burn. Taking his lightsaber from the charred ground but not taking his life. Anakin begging Obi-Wan to come back. Kill him. Kill him. The Force laughs. Look at your Chosen One now.

Anakin blacks out.

Obi-Wan swims to life above him and Anakin starts. Obi-Wan is back to kill him, and a chill of terror shoots through his body so fast that he pushes away from Obi-Wan instinctively. Anakin slides across the floor. Obi-Wan starts, backing away from Anakin.

It takes Anakin a few seconds to come back to himself, but slowly, he pieces together what happened. He's still shaking, and his breath is still rattling through his body, but at least it's not the same sound he heard in his vision. Obi-Wan, on his feet now, waiting for Anakin to collect himself, takes an experimental step forward, and when Anakin doesn't immediately dart away, Obi-Wan sinks to his knees beside Anakin and takes his hand.

"I think…" Obi-Wan says hoarsely. "I broke your hand. Anakin…" Obi-Wan examines it. It's purple and yellow and swollen and as Anakin regains control over his mind he feels it throbbing with extraordinary clarity. "Oh –!" Obi-Wan stares. He's shaking too, Anakin realizes. They're both shaking. Obi-Wan lets out a colorful and uncharacteristic swear. It makes Anakin smile a little. But Obi-Wan isn't smiling. The crease between his brow deepens each moment he looks at Anakin's hand.

So Anakin pulls his hand away. Again. He aggravates the pain, but Anakin doesn't say anything. He just cradles his hand lamely and stares at Obi-Wan. He suddenly can't reconcile the two images –Obi-Wan concerned, guilty, over a minor break in Anakin's hand, an injury mostly Anakin's fault anyway, and Obi-Wan, vacant, empty, heart-broken, leaving Anakin to die alone on the shore of a lava sea. It's Anakin's turn to retch. He wipes his mouth with his metal hand, and he isn't wearing his glove –he didn't even notice, all this time he thought he had been –so it's cold, bony, uncomfortable against his lips, but the other option is his broken hand. He looks back up at Obi-Wan, still kneeling beside him, his brow still knotted in concern. He might be speaking to Anakin, but Anakin isn't listening.

"You left me," Anakin croaks. His head is spinning. His hand hurts. His skin crawls where Obi-Wan brushes up against his leg. "You left me." The Force laughs. So much for your Chosen One. Kill him. Kill him.

Obi-Wan goes as white as a sheet. He wipes his hands on his legs and groans. His knees crack when he stands up. Anakin, as much as he wants Obi-Wan away, away, away, is terrified that Obi-Wan is going to leave him now. _This_ is what his vision was showing him. Obi-Wan abandoning him when he could help him.

Obi-Wan doesn't leave him. He bends down again and hoists Anakin up, draping Anakin's good arm over his shoulder, leading him back to their quarters. He sits Anakin down on the bunk, and Anakin lets him set and dress his the throbbing hand. "It hasn't happened yet," Obi-Wan says. "I have not left you." His voice is soft and cutting. Serious. As solid as granite.

"But you did," Anakin insists, remembering the pain, the heaviness, the darkness. "You left me. You should have killed me." Anakin's voice is weak and shaky and it feels like it is being pulled by a string out of his throat. "You should have killed me."

Obi-Wan sighs heavily. "If there's one thing I could never do it's that, Anakin," he says, without looking him in the eye. "I could never kill you."

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 **A/N: I'm exhausted and not entirely happy with this but it's here and i have written about this arc that makes me crazy. keeps me up at night let me tell u. for a lot of people, apparently, it keeps them up at night, but in a bad way. for me, it keeps me up in a good way.**


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